Missing you
by ytteb
Summary: McGee has left NCIS for a wonderful new job but things don't go quite as expected - and then he gets a visitor from DC. A bit of humour, a bit of hurt/comfort, most of the team involved at some point.


Tim McGee sat in his ergonomically designed, perfectly contoured office chair and gazed at his state of the art computer. The office walls were a soothing mint green and the carpet beneath his feet was immaculate. The coffee on his desk, brought by his highly trained secretary, was just as he liked it and was accompanied by a donut with multi-coloured sprinkles which he had yet to start picking off.

He gazed out of the window where, gleaming in the distance, he could see the North San Diego Bay. The sky was blue and cloudless, the weather delightful.

McGee sighed.

The Associate Vice President of Analysis and Strategy for PCI Inc. had just held a team meeting at which he had outlined plans for a new method of streaming and layering financial data to enable greater synergies for their customers. The team had been enthusiastic about the proposals and had hung on his every word as he gave details of how he had devised the new computer programmes.

The new Associate Vice President of Analysis and Strategy sighed. This was a dream job where he was able to use his extraordinary gifts in computer science, where he was well paid, appreciated and where people took surreptitious notes of every word that issued from his illustrious mouth. Tim smiled ironically as he remembered the first time he had begun to explain some thought process to his new team. He had broken off apologetically after a few words and said, "Sorry, you don't need to know that." Then he had looked up and seen the disappointed looks on the faces of the young men and women who worked for him: it was perhaps then that he first realised the difference between working for NCIS and for PCI Inc.

McGee mused about what would happen if someone administered a head slap to the Associate Vice President. He pictured the hurt bewilderment that would register on his employees' faces should anyone spread a keyboard with superglue. Tim reached out a tentative finger and touched the D key and sighed again when he felt how smooth and clean it was.

McGee had been in his new job for about six months. His last three months at NCIS had been horrendous. They had had back to back cases leaving no time for rest or recovery and the nature of those cases had been draining – increasing levels of violence and sadism, crimes against particularly vulnerable victims and all set against a background of budget cuts and political infighting about the future of the agency.

McGee knew that they all went through times when they questioned the value or purpose of what they did but this time it was worse than ever and coupled with the dreariest DC winter he could remember. So when an old MIT buddy offered him a new post, "using your skills properly, Tim" he had actually thought about it. A flying trip to San Diego and a visit to the ultra-modern tower which housed the new company had convinced Tim that it was time to move on.

The exhausted MCRT had seemed shell shocked by his decision but had understood; they were all in awe of his abilities and probably hadn't really expected that he would resist the lure of outside industry for so long. Abby had wept, Ducky had given him the history of San Diego, Gibbs had thanked him brusquely for what he had done and Tony …, well, Tony had been very adult about it and had kept in touch more than the others. McGee winced as he remembered the last time Tony had been in contact. Tony had forgotten the time difference and, having got up early himself, had phoned McGee at 0300 San Diego time!

McGee sighed, again and then shook himself. This was his dream job, he reminded himself. He was working in a beautiful environment, in a lovely part of the country, he was making new friends and was surrounded by people who appreciated his abilities and could talk to him about them intelligently. He roused himself enough to pick two sprinkles off his donut but was then distracted by the sound of raised voices outside his office door. Nobody raised their voices at PCI Inc.; the company prided itself on its enlightened approach to personnel management and believed that its policies respected and enabled all its people, there was really no need to argue in a heated manner – there were always proper channels to go through.

The shouts continued and McGee, still enough of a federal agent to run towards trouble rather than away, opened the door to see what was happening in his outer office.

"I want to see McBrainiac," he heard a familiar voice say.

"I'm sorry, Sir," came Petunia's patient voice, "I'm afraid we don't have anyone of that name working here."

"Yes, you do. He's the Associate Vice President of … something long and complicated! You know. McGeek!"

"I'm afraid not, Sir," said Petunia with continued patience, "now, if you don't leave, I will have to call Security."

"McGee, Timothy McGee," came the reply, "that's it. I want to see McGee."

"Do you have an appointment, Sir? I'm afraid Mr McGee doesn't see anyone without an appointment."

McGee saw that Petunia was reaching for the silent alarm button so decided to intervene. He coughed to make his presence known.

"McGoo!" said Tony in a delighted voice, "I knew you worked here!" He lurched forward and slapped Tim on the shoulders, and then turned to glare at Petunia, "see, told you he was the Vice President of something or other." He then whispered in Tim's ear, "Probie, you should train your people better. Primrose here doesn't seem to know your name"

"Sir," said Petunia, "would you like me to call Security?" She gave Tony a distinctly cool look which Tony returned haughtily.

"No, no," said Tim hastily, "that's fine. Um, could you bring us some … what would you like, Tony?"

"Milk and cookies," said Tony a touch unexpectedly.

"Right. Petunia, would you see to that, please. And cancel my appointments for the rest of the morning, please," said Tim as he ushered Tony into his office.

Like many of his visitors, Tony went straight to the window and gazed out over the city.

"Nice view, McTimmy. Moved your desk have you?"

Tim winced and wondered how Tony had noticed that. His twentieth floor office was one of the most prestigious in the building but the view from the window had made him feel sick so he had moved his desk back from the window.

"What you doing here, Tony? Why didn't you let me know you were coming?"

Tony frowned a bit at that question and seemed a bit puzzled.

"Didn't I tell you I was coming?"

"No, you didn't."

"Oh. Must have forgot. I'd apologise but you know what the Boss thinks of that."

Petunia came in at that moment bearing a glass of milk and a plate of cookies from the in-house organic bakery. Tony beamed at her in a belated attempt at charm. She frowned at him but smiled in a sympathetic way at McGee before leaving the room again.

"You slept with her yet, McGoo?" asked Tony as he slurped his milk.

"Tony!" said McGee in an outraged voice.

Tony shrugged his shoulders, "you could if you wanted. She fancies you."

"Tony!" said McGee again.

"I know, it's a gift to sense these things," said Tony, "and trust me, I'm right."

Tim felt his blood pressure begin to rise in a familiar way.

"You didn't tell me why you're here, Tony," said Tim in an effort to change the subject away from Petunia.

"To see you, McStranger," said Tony, "why else would I be here? I thought we could go see the USS Midway. I could tell the Boss about it, buy him a postcard. He'd like that."

"I've got to work, Tony," said McGee.

"Work, work, work," said Tony dismissively, "all work and no play will make McGee a dull boy. Whoops, too late!" and he laughed. Unfortunately he was eating one of the cookies as he laughed and he began to cough.

McGee frowned as he listened to the cough; it brought back memories of visits to Bethesda when Tony had caught the plague. This cough might have begun with cookie crumbs but there was something nasty and wet about it. He filled a glass with water and handed it to Tony,

"Thanks, McFlorence Nightingale," said Tony when he could speak again.

"How long are you here for?" asked Tim.

"Um," said Tony uncertainly.

"Where are you staying?"

"Um. A hotel," said Tony after some thought.

"Which hotel?"

"One with beds," said Tony hopefully.

Tim looked at his cell but there were no messages.

"I like the colour of the walls," said Tony emphatically, "I think you should send a picture to the Director. He might change our walls. I don't like orange."

"I'll think about it," said Tim, "so, how's work?"

"Making me dull," said Tony sadly.

"You're never dull," said Tim in an encouraging way.

"You say that now," said Tony, "but that's not what you used to say."

"I never said you were dull," protested Tim, "I might have _wanted _you to be dull sometimes so that I could get some work done but, no, you were never dull."

"Someone's got to keep the atmosphere light," said Tony proudly, "but nobody does now."

"Has something happened, Tony?" asked McGee, "everyone's all right, aren't they?"

"Everyone is fine, McWorrywart," said Tony, "We're all frightfully chipper, as Ducky would say."

"Actually, Tony, I don't think that is what Ducky would say. He doesn't really talk like someone out of a 1930s British movie."

"Finally," said Tony happily, "a movie reference! Not a very good one, but I'm proud of you, Tim."

Tony drained his glass and checked that he'd eaten the last of the cookies and then stood up.

"I mustn't keep you from being an important person. I'll go."

"Where you going?" asked Tim in some alarm.

"You've got work to do, Tim," said Tony, "I'll go. I think I'll go and see that ship thing I mentioned before."

"Will I see you again?" asked Tim.

"That's a very deep question," said Tony with a serious look on his face, "who can tell what life will throw at us. What barriers there may be which will prevent our meeting again? But … yeah, sure. Um, will you come in the elevator with me?"

"Why?"

"I'm a bit scared of Primula," admitted Tony, "I don't think she approves of me."

"Sure," said Tim, "why don't you call me when you find your hotel."

"Did I lose it?" asked Tony.

"I don't think you've found it at all yet," said Tim.

"Oh," said Tony thoughtfully, "if I find it, I'll let you know."

Tim escorted Tony past a still disapproving Petunia and pointed him in the direction of the USS Midway Museum. He went back to his office in a thoughtful mood and tried to think about work. He gave up after about ten minutes and, after checking his cell for messages again, called a familiar DC number.

"Gibbs," came the reply.

"Boss," said McGee.

"Not your Boss, Tim," said Gibbs briskly.

"No, of course not, Boss. I mean, Gibbs."

"Not got a lot of time here, Tim," said Gibbs in a tone which McGee remembered all too well.

"Oh," said Tim, a bit uncertain how to continue.

"Tim, you OK?" asked Gibbs in a slightly more conciliatory tone.

"I'm fine, Bo-Gibbs, never better."

"Good," said Gibbs.

Tim could hear the sigh and half expected the call to be terminated in Gibbs' usual manner.

"Gibbs," he said, "I …"

"Tim," said Gibbs interrupted him, "call another time, will you. We'll catch up then."

"Boss," said Tim in a slight panic, "Tony came to visit me."

"Abby, Ducky," he heard Gibbs shout down the phone, "It's all right. DiNozzo's with McGee. McGee, I'm going to put you on speaker."

"Timothy?" came Ducky's voice, "has Anthony travelled to San Diego?"

"How is he?" asked Abby in a worried voice.

"Where is he now?" asked Gibbs.

"Er, yes," said Tim, "he turned up about an hour ago. Something seemed a bit off."

"Well, yes," said Ducky, "he's been in hospital with a bad bout of pneumonia. He came out yesterday and was supposed to be resting at home."

"But he wasn't there when we went round last night to check on him," wailed Abby, "and we've been looking everywhere for him."

"Mr Palmer thought he might be running a slight fever when he visited earlier in the day, so I went round to see if anything was amiss and found … well, not him," said Ducky.

"Where is he now?" asked Gibbs again.

"I don't know. He left a while ago. Said he was going to visit a museum."

"A museum?" asked Ducky, "Which one? I know there are several well worth a visit."

"The USS Midway," said Tim.

"Oh, well, I'm sure he will find it fascinating," said Ducky, "I remember a most enjoyable visit there some years ago."

"Yes," agreed Tim, "it's excellent."

"Or he might have gone to the Zoo," suggested Abby.

"Or there's the Museum of Art," said Jimmy who must have joined the others.

"Hey," said Gibbs, "less of the tourist information. We need to find DiNozzo. Tim, can you find him?"

"I can try, Bo-Gibbs. He's not been gone long and I think he was probably headed to the USS Midway. He wanted to get you a postcard."

"Aww, that's so sweet," cooed Abby, "was he going to get me something?"

"Abs," said Gibbs crossly, "let's concentrate, shall we?"

"Ducky," said Tim, "does Tony need any medicine or anything? Do I need to get him to a doctor?"

"He should still be taking some antibiotics and he was taking some mild painkillers to ease the discomfort," said Ducky, "so you could pick up some Tylenol or something similar. Let us know when you find him and we will work out what to do from there."

"Right, Ducky," agreed Tim.

"McGee. Just find him. Ducky and me are catching the next flight down. Keep in touch."

"Will do, Boss," said Tim.

NCISNCIS

Tim breathed a sigh of relief when he found Tony sitting on the harbour edge looking over at the air craft carrier.

"Hey, McGee," he said cheerfully, waving towards the ship, "that brings back happy memories. Not."

"You all right, Tony?" asked Tim as he sat down next to him, "you had us worried."

"I'm fine," said Tony automatically. Then he seemed to rethink and said, "Though I'm not quite sure what I'm doing here. Did I come visit you at work?"

"Yes."

"Sorry. Was there someone called Prissy there?"

"Petunia," corrected Tim, "although you might be right."

"She fancies you," said Tony.

"So you said. I should have realised something was wrong."

"Why?"

"You didn't try and seduce her."

"I didn't?" said Tony anxiously.

"No, you didn't."

Tony wiped his forehead, "I must be sicker than I thought."

"Why'd you come all this way, Tony?" asked Tim.

"I've just told you I don't know," said Tony a bit defensively.

"Want some painkillers?" asked Tim.

"No, I'm good," said Tony, "think San Diego agrees with me."

"Why did you come?" asked Tim again.

McGee could see Tony framing another evasive answer but then saw him change his mind, "I missed you," he said.

"Oh," said McGee, surprised. Then he realised something, "I miss you too."

"It's not the same without you," said Tony, "nobody to tease."

"Gee, sorry to inconvenience you," said McGee.

Tony laughed and turned to look at him, "See. That's what I miss. You fight back. Your replacement just rolls his eyes and gets on with his work. No fun."

"So that was all I had to do?" asked McGee, "roll my eyes and ignore you and you would have stopped?"

"You could have made me stop if you really wanted," said Tony, "part of you liked it. Made you know that you were noticed."

"Yeah, I guess," admitted McGee, "but we talk on the phone. You didn't have to come all this way. Did you bring anything with you, any baggage?"

"Don't know," said Tony, "think I just turned up at the airport. Might have to borrow some boxers, Timmy."

"We'll get you some," said McGee, "I'll send Petunia out to get them."

Tony nodded and continued to look out at the ship. Silence reigned for a few minutes and then he said,

"I was worried."

"About what?"

"You."

"Why. Everything's fine."

"Is it?"

"Tony. I'm living in this beautiful part of the country. I'm doing interesting work. I'm paid well, very well. I've got stock options. I've got a secretary who fancies me. I work for people who appreciate me, who understand technology. I've got a great apartment. Everything's fine. Why are you worried about me?"

"You answered the phone."

"I always answer the phone," said Tim, "I'm that sort of person."

"At 0300. When I forgot about the time difference."

"So? I moaned about it, but I answered," said Tim in a puzzled voice.

"You answered on the first ring. Nobody answers the phone on the first ring at that time of the morning unless they're already awake."

"So? I was awake, what's the big deal?"

"That's not like you, Tim. You're not that much of an early bird. I figured you were awake because you were unhappy."

"You got all that from me answering the phone on the first ring?"

"Yes. It's what makes me a good investigator."

"And you came all the way down here because of that?"

"Well," said Tony in some embarrassment, "clearly my subconscious thought it was important. Was it right, Tim?"

Tim didn't answer for a few moments and then he said, "It was right. I'm not happy."

"Why not, Tim?" asked Tony gently.

"It should all be perfect," said Tim, "it's work that uses all my talents. And doesn't involve me getting shot or blown up."

"But?"

"I like the people I work with," continued Tim.

"And?"

"And I get results. Things happen, I can make things change."

"So?"

"And I don't really care about any of it," admitted Tim, "making money for people who've already got an obscene amount of it. I thought it would be enough but it's not."

"What you going to do?"

"I don't want to go back to NCIS," said Tim, "at least I don't think so. I felt as if I'd done everything I could there."

"We all hit bad patches," said Tony, "and it was bad when you left. We were all so tired we didn't have the energy to persuade you to stay."

"I don't think you could have persuaded me, Tony."

"Not sure I wanted to, Tim."

"What?" said Tim in a slightly disappointed tone.

"I think I was relieved that you were going to be safe. Somewhere warm and sunny, well paid … and safe. I've lost too many people. I was glad my probie was going to be all right."

"Not your probie," grumbled Tim.

"Always, Probie, it's a law of nature. Once a probie, always a probie."

"OK, OK," said Tim, not quite wanting to admit that being called Tony's probie gave him a warm feeling inside. "So, what do you suggest I do, Master?"

"Ooh, sarcasm," said Tony snarkily, "well, I guess you're quite well off now?"

"Guess so," admitted Tim, "and I've nearly finished another book."

Tony glared at him and Tim hurried on, "A computer book. 'Binary for Misfits'. I wrote it with Gibbs in mind."

Tony's glare turned to laughter, "Hope you haven't dedicated it to him!"

"No. I thought I'd dedicate it to you instead. My friend."

"And teacher," said Tony.

"In some things," agreed Tim.

"Come back to DC," said Tony.

"And do what?"

"Be cold in winter."

"Not really selling this, Tony."

"I don't know. Find a charity to work for, something you believe in. Lots of places like that could do with your skills. Teach, you like kids after all. There's lots of things you could do."

"Why didn't you say all this before I left?"

"Would you have listened?"

"Probably not," admitted Tim.

"And my subconscious was still subconscious and not in control," added Tony.

They stayed looking at the aircraft carrier until Tim noticed that Tony was beginning to fall asleep.

"Come on, DiNozzo," he said, "let's go back to my apartment overlooking the bay. My beautiful apartment that I'm going to be giving up because of you."

"You're entirely welcome," said Tony sleepily.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs gazed down at where Tony slept peacefully in McGee's guest bedroom.

"Good job, McGee," he said.

"Thanks, Bo-Gibbs."

"He missed you," said Gibbs, "we all did."

"I missed you all too, Gibbs," said Tim.

"What you going to do about it?" asked Gibbs.

"What makes you think I'm going to do anything?" asked Tim.

Gibbs quirked a smile as he looked at the sleeping Tony, "because DiNozzo may be sick, may be tired, may be more than a bit out of it, but he looks happier than he has for weeks. I think that means you're doing something."

"I forgot what this feels like," said Tim in a mock complaining voice.

Gibbs just raised an eyebrow.

"I'm going to quit the job and come back to DC. Find a job that matters to me. Follow Tony's advice."

"Good advice. Could do worse," said Gibbs, "but don't tell Tony I said so."

"Too late," said Tony sleepily, "I heard that."


End file.
